Live Confrontation

1 Five years after we broke up, my ex-boyfriend was on a livestream, asking for advice on how to get me to refund the $650 he’d spent on me during our relationship. “Host, my ex is a total gold digger,” he whined into the camera. “She had to have a special bowl of collagen porridge every morning. A hundred bucks a bowl! I could buy enough bread to last me three years with that money.” “My sister had a miscarriage, and when I asked her to help with the hospital bills, she said no. But then she went and bought her own mom a Chanel bag.” “Isn’t my sister’s health more important than some designer purse?” “Then my sister got into a little trouble and just needed a hundred grand to sort things out, and she actually broke up with me over it.” “It’s all her fault I’m still single. Host, you gotta help me. Help me get my $650 back.” If I remembered correctly, Ethan Lowe had never bought me so much as a bottle of water. Where in the hell did he get the figure $650? I immediately requested to join the livestream to confront him. … Listening to Ethan’s litany of lies, I was shaking with rage. I had dated Ethan for five years. In that time, I bought him Air Jordans, a Rolex Submariner, and took his entire family on a vacation to Europe. I gave him a ten-thousand-dollar monthly allowance and paid for his sister’s private maternity nurse and hospital bills when she had her baby. I even paid the breakup fee he owed his previous girlfriend. The real reason I dumped Ethan was because his sister had an affair, got pregnant, and he demanded I pay for her abortion. When I refused, he gave me the silent treatment for a month. Then, on my birthday, he suddenly reached out. I thought he wanted to reconcile. Turns out, he wanted me to give his sister’s much younger boyfriend a hundred thousand dollars in hush money to appease him. That was the moment the fog in my brain finally cleared. Why on earth should I pay off my boyfriend’s sister’s side piece? I might have money, but I wasn’t a fool. After the breakup, I kicked him out of my apartment. I never expected that while I was away on a business trip, Ethan would come back and clean the place out. He took everything. Even the toilet. It was because he’d demanded “emotional distress compensation” and I’d refused. He’d told me if I wouldn’t give it to him, he’d take it himself. I was going to call the police, but his mother got on her knees and begged me, saying her son had just had a moment of confusion and asked me to forgive him. I felt sorry for her, and since I wasn’t short on cash, I let it go. I never dreamed that five years later, he’d be on a livestream demanding reimbursement for dating expenses, doxxing me in the process. In the few minutes I’d been watching, I’d already received over thirty calls from unknown numbers all over the country. I typed in the comments: [Host, this is Scarlett Vance, the ex-girlfriend of “Man_on_the_Rise.” I’d like to join the stream and set the record straight.] The host’s face lit up. “Man on the Rise, your ex is here! Are you willing to go live with her?” Ethan stammered, “Uh, maybe not. Scarlett has a really bad temper. I’m afraid she’ll just yell at me. Can’t you just tell her to send me the money?” The chat immediately filled with messages of support for Ethan. [No wonder he was cheap with her. His ex is a psycho.] [I’d slap a woman like that three times a day and wouldn’t spend a dime on her. $650 over five years is generous.] I responded by dropping ten “Carnivals,” the most expensive gift on the platform. [Host, let me on with Ethan, and I’ll drop ten more.] The chat exploded. [Damn, that’s like three grand in one go! This woman is a queen!] [Someone who drops ten Carnivals without blinking is worried about $650? Yeah, right.] The host practically leaped out of his chair and patched me into the stream. The second my face appeared on screen, I let him have it. “Ethan, have you ever spent a single penny on me? Where did you even come up with the number six-fifty?” “Show me the receipts.” Hearing me deny it, Ethan flew into a rage. “See, Scarlett? I told everyone you were a gold digger! You spend my money, block me, and then pretend it never happened, is that it?” A troll in the chat egged him on. [Bro, post the receipts and shut her up! That’s over six hundred bucks! You could cater a whole table at a wedding with that kind of money!] Ethan, completely missing the sarcasm, immediately sent the “receipt” to the host. “Host, do me a favor and display this for everyone to see.” The host opened the file and burst out laughing. “Sorry, everyone! I’m usually very professional, unless I literally can’t help it!” The moment the receipt appeared on screen, the chat went wild. [You have got to be kidding me. Is this guy for real?] [And he calls that her spending his money? I’d be too embarrassed to even admit this happened.] Ethan’s breathing grew ragged, his voice a little weak. “Well, if Scarlett hadn’t broken up with me without giving me a breakup fee, would I have tripped and fallen while I was at her apartment taking what I was owed?” “I got a huge gash on my leg! It needed three stitches! The pain was excruciating!” “I called Scarlett from the hospital to ask her to pay the bill, but she’d already blocked me.” I laughed out loud. What a shame he didn’t break his neck. “Ethan, let me get this straight. You hired a locksmith to illegally enter my home, stole my furniture and appliances, and then you accidentally hurt yourself during the robbery and you’re blaming me? Does that sound like the logic of a sane person?” “If you’d just given me the hundred grand I asked for, would I have fallen in the first place?” he shot back, completely shameless. “Because you were so stingy, I’ve been living in poverty for years.” “Just pay up. If you don’t, this won’t be about just six hundred and fifty dollars anymore!” That whole incident with the furniture five years ago left a disgusting taste in my mouth. My moment of pity had haunted me. If I gave in to him now, I’d never forgive myself. I snorted. “I’m not giving you a single cent. What are you going to do about it?” Suddenly, a young woman’s voice piped up from Ethan’s side. “Listen here, you old hag! I’m Ethan’s fiancée. You have to give him his money back. How else is he supposed to pay for my dowry?” I frowned, certain I must have misheard. “Honey, how much is Ethan paying for your dowry? How can it possibly come down to a measly six hundred and fifty bucks?” “He’s giving me $1,314,” she said proudly. “It’s to show he’ll love me for life.” I was floored. “$131,400? Ethan is that cheap? He’s actually willing to spend that much on you?” “Not one hundred thirty-one thousand,” Ethan corrected her quickly. “It’s one thousand, three hundred and fourteen dollars. It symbolizes that I’ll love Cindy forever.” I couldn’t help it; I roared with laughter. The chat was on fire. [What century is this? A $1,314 dowry payment? That’s more insulting than giving nothing at all.] [If that was my daughter, I’d drag her home and break her legs if she didn’t listen.] But Cindy was shameless. “What do you people know? You can’t put a price on love. My boyfriend may not have a lot of money, but he’s willing to humble himself and get back all the money he spent on his exes just to marry me. That’s true dedication.” I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. So I wasn’t the first victim? There were others? Trying to stifle my giggles, I asked, “So, Ethan, how much have you managed to raise so far?” “I just need your six hundred and fifty,” he announced proudly. “Once I have that, I can officially go to Cindy’s family and propose.” The host spoke up, his voice full of pity. “Young lady, take some advice from an older brother. Go home. If you marry a man like this, you’re signing up for a lifetime of misery.” From her voice, Cindy sounded about the same age as my younger sister. A wave of sympathy washed over me. “Sweetie, you’re young. You don’t know what real love is. Ethan is not a good person. By not giving him this money, I’m saving you.” Cindy wasn’t having it. “You shameless old witch! Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t want me to marry him because you’re still in love with him! Well, you can forget it! Ethan told me you have that old lady smell, and if it wasn’t for your money, he wouldn’t have looked at you twice!” I was so furious I wanted to reach through the screen and throttle him. Yes, I was three years older than Ethan, but I was in my early thirties. I worked out daily, had a meticulous skincare routine, and could easily pass for someone in their early twenties. Old lady smell? And he was the one who relentlessly pursued me, claiming he loved older women because they made him feel secure. I had made it crystal clear from the start: I was twenty-seven and dating for marriage. If he wasn’t serious, he shouldn’t waste my time. He swore on his entire family’s lives that if he didn’t marry me, they would all suffer a lifetime of misfortune. Only then did I agree to date him. I laid down the law. “Ethan, I’m not giving you a dime. If you want it so badly, sue me.” He shot back with his own threat. “You just wait, Scarlett. I’ll be at your place in ten minutes. I’m gonna beat the crap out of you!” “Fine,” I snarled. “If you don’t show up, you’re not a man.” With that, he disconnected. The host looked worried. “Scarlett, you need to call the police right now. A broke man like that has nothing to lose. He might do something crazy!” I just smiled. He wanted to play tough? I knew people a lot tougher than him. “Host, mind if I run a little ad on your stream?” “Anyone local who can get to my apartment complex within ten minutes, come on down. No limit on numbers. I’m paying a hundred bucks a head for your time. I need people who can curse creatively. The filthier, the better.” “Also looking for some tough-looking guys with neck tattoos, maybe some local heavy-hitters. Name your price.” I dropped my address in the comments, and the host pinned it to the top. The chat was a blur of messages. [Lady, I don’t need the money. I just love drama.] [Sis, me and my dorm mates are three minutes away. We’ll protect you!] [Honey, my mother-in-law has been undefeated in arguments for thirty years, and we live in the same complex. We’re on our way down.] [Damn it, why do I live so far away? I want in on this!] The host was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is killing me! I want to be there so bad! I can’t imagine what that guy and his girlfriend will do when they see a whole crowd waiting for them. Scarlett, please, you have to livestream it.” I’m a businesswoman. I would never pass up an opportunity for this much free publicity. I sent a message to my work group chat: “Team, time for some overtime. Grab the new product samples and promo materials and get to my apartment complex ASAP. Everyone gets a thousand-dollar bonus, plus reimbursed travel. You can take tomorrow morning off.” I shook my husband awake. “Get up! Get the camera! The viral moment of a lifetime is here!” He was groggy. “What’s going on?” “My ex-boyfriend is on his way over to extort me. We’re going to the front gate to meet him.” That woke him up instantly. “I’m calling my buddies. If that punk lays a single finger on you, I’ll break him.” I smiled. “No need. I have reinforcements.” When I got to the front gate of my complex, I was stunned. Did these people teleport? There were already over a hundred people gathered, with dozens of phones set up on tripods, all streaming. A neighbor waved. “Scarlett, we’re all here to protect you!” When the strangers realized I was the main character, they all started cheering and waving. A few huge, muscular guys came over. “Ma’am, we don’t want your money. We just want a word with this little punk.” A dozen older women were cracking their knuckles excitedly. “Honey, just give the signal. We’ll drag his ancestors out of their graves and curse them all over again.” I thanked everyone, gave the building security a heads-up, and immediately got to work hanging up my company’s promotional banners. Within eight minutes, my entire team had arrived. They started handing out samples and brochures to the crowd, setting up ad displays along the sidewalk. Twenty minutes later, Ethan and Cindy pulled up on a single shared rental bike. Ethan was holding a small switch he’d broken off a tree. He saw the sea of people and froze. “It’s midnight,” he muttered. “Why are there so many people here?” Cindy yelled, “Ethan, let’s go! If Scarlett doesn’t pay up today, we’ll do what we did last time and empty her apartment!” I waved. “Ethan! Over here!” He strutted over, twig in hand, a smug look on his face. “Scarlett, did you come out here just to meet me? You miss me that much?” Cindy looked alarmed. “I admit you’re kind of pretty, Scarlett, but if you try to steal Ethan from me, I’ll fight you!” I made a gagging sound. “Please, Ethan, don’t make me sick. I was young and dumb enough to take a few bites of shit, and the memory still turns my stomach. I have no desire to even look at shit anymore.” His face flushed with rage. “How dare you be so vulgar, Scarlett? You’re the shit!” He wanted to curse me out? Fine. Let him face the full might of the nation’s most formidable fighting force: angry grandmas. I temporarily paused my own stream and gave the aunties a subtle nod. They immediately swarmed Ethan and Cindy, unleashing a verbal onslaught. The barrage of profanity was so intense that none of it was broadcastable. I could hear other streamers nearby groaning that their accounts were getting banned. Ethan and Cindy spun around, trying to fire back, but their voices were completely drowned out by the sonic wall of insults. The sheer volume of spittle flying from the aunties’ mouths was enough to give them a shower. Ethan snapped and tried to get physical. But the moment he raised his little switch, one of the tattooed guys grabbed his arm. “You even think about touching one of them, little man, and you won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise.” “There are cameras everywhere!” Ethan shrieked, pointing at the security cameras. “You hit me, and I’ll call the cops! I’ll sue you for everything you’ve got!” “Yeah!” Cindy chimed in. “We’ll sue you blind!” The tattooed guy just picked Ethan up and tossed him into the crowd. A swarm of people immediately closed in. When they parted, Ethan was on the ground, his face bruised and his glasses shattered. Cindy, who had been so aggressive just moments before, was now silent as a mouse. “You just wait,” Ethan whimpered, holding his jaw. “I’m calling the police! I’ll have you all thrown in jail for life!” I held up my phone. “Already did that for you. They’ll be here any second.” When the police arrived, Ethan ran to them like they were his long-lost family. “Officers, you have to arrest Scarlett and all these men! They assaulted me! Execute them!” I calmly explained the situation to the officers, who then reviewed the security footage. I hadn’t touched Ethan. The aunties, while verbally abusive, hadn’t caused any physical harm, which wasn’t illegal. Plus, they were all over sixty-eight. Good luck prosecuting them. “What about the guys who hit me?” Ethan whined. “You have to arrest them!” But the crowd had been packed so tightly that the cameras couldn’t see who had thrown the punches. Ethan couldn’t identify his attackers either, so the matter was dropped. Someone in the crowd yelled, “Get out of here before we give you another round!” Ethan shot me a look of pure hatred. “Fine, Scarlett, I’ll go. But you have to reimburse me for the shared bike fee.” The crowd erupted in laughter. Ethan seemed oblivious, holding his hand out expectantly. One of the guys couldn’t take it anymore, pulled a ten-dollar bill from his wallet, and threw it at him. “I’ll pay it for her. Now get lost before you embarrass yourself any further.” Ethan glared at me one last time, then grabbed Cindy and stormed off. As they left, I faintly heard him say, “Don’t worry, Cindy. I swear I’ll get that thirteen-hundred-and-fourteen-dollar dowry for you.” What a mess. How could any girl be so clueless? I had my team continue handing out gifts and paid the promised appearance fees, spending about three thousand dollars in total. I wasn’t short on money. I just refused to give that parasite the satisfaction. The incident was a marketing miracle. My social media account gained a million followers overnight, and I quickly got it verified. The people who had tried our samples that night flooded the comments with rave reviews. The new product line sold out the moment it launched. Business owners from all over the country started messaging me, asking for exclusive distribution rights. Ethan, of course, showed up in my comments section: [Scarlett, you owe me. All this traffic came from me. You have to give me half of your profits.] I didn’t block him. I just let him rave. The more outrageous his claims, the better my engagement numbers got. When he saw I was ignoring him, he posted one last threat: [You wanna be heartless, Scarlett? Fine. Don’t come crying to me when things go wrong.] I didn’t take him seriously. He was broke and pathetic, all talk and no action. But a week later, my factory was in trouble. Big trouble.